He spoke to Katie most days: see how she was coping with his Mom. He didn’t have to worry; they were both getting on fine as his father told him on his latest call. “Haven’t had so much freedom for years,” his father said. “I can go and have a drink or two with the boys at the boat house, and not so much as a whimper from your mom. Lovely girl Katie, you take care of her, you hear me.” He went rambling on.Mac looked at his pile of paperwork and cut in. “Dad, can I talk to Katie? It’s important.”“Of course, son, just you hold on a minute.”Mac waited. He heard the phone being picked up and Katie’s familiar voice. “Hello Mac, what’s up? Your father said it was urgent.”Mac laughed. “I just wanted to talk to you.”“Well I’m all yours,” she replied. “That is, until your mom drags me off shopping again.” She laughed. “Haven’t had so much fun since...” her laughter trailed off. “Sorry Mac, it’s getting better, I promise.”Mac would have held her close if he was there. Instead he said, “Hey, you hold on there.”She sniffed. “You found Josie’s killer, yet?” She asked the same question most days.He had no answer that would satisfy her. “Katie, all I can tell you is that we’re getting closer.” It was the best he could do, and it was true. Elmer had updated the profile and the squad had been out in force following up leads. “I’ve got a meeting lined up later this morning; we hope to have some real progress reports.”“Just find him for me, Mac,” she replied.Mac had to move away from this; it was awkward for both of them. The beginning of a relationship, how much could they open up to each other. “Look Katie, you go shopping with my mom, let us take care this end, okay?”She seemed to accept it. “Okay, Mac. You take care. I don’t want anything bad happening to you.”He shrugged it off. “Hasn’t my Dad told you I’m bullet-proof,” he replied. “I’ll call again when I get some positive news, okay?”There was silence at the other end. “Make it soon, Mac,” she eventually replied. “Make it real soon.”He was going to say something else, something like how much she meant to him, but she interrupted. “Mac, gotta go now, your mom’s waving her credit card at me. Talk later.”He wondered if there was ever going to be a right time. “Yeah, okay, have fun,” he said as the line crackled and disconnected.***Mac hadn’t told Katie about enrolling Sammy and the two kids in the case. Come to that, he hadn’t told Andy or Elmer either. And Chief Amos would hang him out to dry if he knew the full picture. Mac hoped they would come up with a name or a lead, but it was a long shot, and he knew it. At the next homicide unit meeting he would mention he had a couple of informants on the street. He would take it from there. He glanced up from his desk. The squad was gathering in the incident room and, outside the door, the chief was feeding a bill into the coffee machine. Mac got up and moved over to him. “Mine’s black as it comes,” he said. “You want some change?”Chief put out his hand and nudged Mac away. “This one’s on me,” he replied.At least Chief was in a good mood. It was a good time to give him advance notice. “Chief, before we go in, I got a couple of informants on the go, but I don’t want anyone butting in, especially Andy. You okay with that?”Chief Amos stopped. “Something I ought to know about?”Mac reassured him. “Better you don’t know, but it’s not illegal what they’re doing, and it could flush the perp out of his hellhole.”Chief picked up their Styrofoam cups and handed one to Mac. “Let’s keep it that way, Mac,” he said, ushering Mac into the room.

“Okay, listen up,” said Andy. Elmer will give us a profile update, and then we’ll go round the room and log the progress. We’ll assign duties as we go, is that ok with everyone?” He looked around the room.Chief Amos put up his hand. “Before you start, let me tell all of you the political status so you know what’s up. Then I’ll butt out, ok?” This was one of Chief’s strengths, painting the bigger picture, and not interfering with essential police work.Andy nodded. “Go ahead chief.”“The bottom line is we have breathing space to apprehend the perp. That comes straight from the Mayor’s office. No one is going down the political route on this one. Everyone is in agreement, a serial killer loose on the streets of Longfield is bad news for both the parties.” He stopped and glanced around the room. “The bad news is the goodwill will end if we don’t get quick results, or if the killer strikes again.” He grinned at the group as he got up from his perch and moved across to the door. “No pressure, then.”“Well we know what we’re up against,” said Andy as he reconvened the meeting. “Minimum interference from the policy makers providing we catch the perp, like yesterday.” He motioned towards Elmer. “For those of you who are still wondering, Elmer has been seconded from Stockton to profile our killer. He’ll provide us with an update based on our current understanding. Hopefully it’ll save us wasting time chasing up wrong alleys.” He stopped and waved a hand at the group. “Before you go thinking that he’s one of those airy-fairy physco-babble freaks, that’s not true. Elmer is a cop. He bases his profiles on real-life homicides.” Andy glared around the room as he sat down. “Don’t you forget that.”Elmer stood up and moved across to the flip chart. “No need to take notes I’ve got hand-outs for everyone. Let’s quickly run through the main update points,” he said, as he peeled back the paper. “Stop me if you got a question, okay?”Elmer pointed to the chart. “The perp needs media attention. He would continue to kill if he was denied that. We have reported the latest murder of Josie Forbes to local TV and papers.” Elmer paused. “We hope the local coverage would entice the perp to contact the media in some way, maybe to ask when it would go nationwide.” Elmer smiled. “If that happens we could get a handle on how he thinks, and what he plans to do next. We’ll be one step closer in nailing him.”“Sorry Elmer, can I interrupt?” said one of the women cops. Sue.Elmer nodded.“There’s a lot of conjecture there. Why are you saying he needs nationwide media attention?”Mac interrupted. A little too quickly. “Sue -- the crime scenes he leaves behind are like from the movies. He’s a damn egoist. And sick.”The room hummed. Mac’s voice had an edge. Elmer held up a hand to calm them down. “Hear me out first.”Elmer turned over a sheet. The room went quiet as they read the assessment. “Here is our latest profile based upon the ‘bullet in the hand’ homicide in Stockton, and the ‘fish hook’ and ‘celebration dinner’ homicides here. It indicates he is young enough to be physically seeking a partner, but his continued violation of women backs up our initial profile that he has some mental or physical disability that prevents women relating to him. He resents his disability, and he hates women for rejecting him. This leads us to conclude that the disability is not from childhood but acquired later, possibly as a result of a transport accident or even during active service. He just cannot adapt to it.”Chuck raised a hand. “Elmer, do you have an opinion, either way? Physical, or mental?”Elmer shrugged. “The jury’s out on that. If it’s physical, he has disguised his disability so that most people wouldn’t be able to tell at first sight. As you know, he has enough charisma to entice his way into women’s apartments.” He pointed to the handout.“Single white male aged around thirty, in reasonable physical shape, and in a profession where media attention is common practice. We can narrow it down even further. Stats over the last five years indicate similar homicides occurring in places where the Bees tour. He could be part of the Bees entourage.”Chuck again. “How many are we talking about?”Elmer grimaced. “Bad news. Bees are big business with a big payroll. There could be close to two hundred possible suspects, some are regulars who come and go as they travel from town to town.” He glanced across at Andy. “That’s where we’re at.”Andy stood up. “Okay, I’ll take questions first.”Mac spoke up. “What DNA testing we done?”Andy shook his head. “It’s a sensitive issue. Having cops all over the Bees personnel would be inviting a media storm and a public outcry, let alone potential multi-million lawsuits from the disgruntled management and sponsors. We gotta have more than enough reason before we blanket the entourage. No disrespect to Elmer’s stats, at the moment we got a profile of probabilities, not hard evidence. If we can narrow the numbers down to a few, we can keep it low key.”This was the opportunity that Mac was waiting for. “Andy, I have a couple of informants working on this angle right now.” He could see Andy showing signs of reluctance. “You’ll have to trust me on this, it’s not illegal and it isn’t going to hamper our investigation. Chief has given me the green light.”Andy thought awhile, and nodded. “Okay Mac, better we run with it off line; just keep me in the loop with what’s happening, okay?”

After the meeting, Mac trudged back to his desk and his caseload. Finding this perp was like looking for a needle in a cornfield. Until someone or something surfaced, there was not a lot to go on. He began to sift through the latest homicides, put most of them in the serious crime folder, and the remaining few he put into the Chief’s inbox.Balls were in the air, all he needed was a break. He looked at his watch. He had an appointment down at the local radio station; they were doing a lunchtime live broadcast on the homicides. Engaging the public, they called it.

She heaved a sigh of relief when he eventually untied her. He was insane, or at least deranged, so why had he changed his mind? It didn’t make much sense. He had knocked her out, tied her up, and then let her go without even molesting her. Clearly he needed the money, maybe that’s why she was still alive. He needed her to set BG up.

Emmy shook the last Marlboro light from its pack and lit up. She didn’t usually smoke, but she was scared. Scared stiff in fact. She held no illusions. If everything went to plan, Coach would eliminate Sammy De Maggio. If Sammy had any Mafia mobsters with him, they would die as well. And then she would be next, after Coach had his fun. She shuddered at that thought.The alternative wasn’t much better. Sammy could kill Coach, and then interrogate her. And then he would do what BG said, kill her for being in the same place as Ruth. Either way, she would lose out on the money. The money she needed. Whichever way she looked at it, her future didn’t look bright. She couldn’t go to the police, the Mob was out of the question; she had no one. She was becoming desperate. And then she remembered Jake.***Jake was sitting at the back of the coffee bar by the window, morosely spooning the froth on his hot chocolate. He didn’t particularly like hot chocolate, but it was a change from the insipid coffee. Vanity was off duty - that was a relief. Anna was talking to another of the persons on Mac’s list; she would join him later to recap on her meeting.He picked up his cup and took a sip. And jigged it down on its saucer before he dropped it. The girl who looked like Emmy was staring at him through the window. He shot to his feet and ran to the door, this time he wasn’t going to lose her in the crowd. He needn’t have bothered. She sauntered up to him with a smile on her face and said in her familiar voice, “You looking for me?”He had been so taken back, he couldn’t speak. He just spluttered. She ushered him back in the coffee bar, and sat down at his table. “You want a cookie with that?” she said, when the waitress came over.Jake shook his head, and pushed the hot chocolate to one side. He could handle this conversation. “Make mine coffee, black, no sugar,” he told the waitress. “No cookie.” He waited while Emmy ordered green tea with lemon. She had changed; no doubt about it. But she also acted nervous, he could smell nicotine. She started to tap the table with her index finger. He looked at it. The nail was chewed, as were the others on her hand. Something she couldn’t deal with on her own, maybe? He felt a lot calmer and watched her eyes. They sat in silence until the waitress returned with their drinks.“I’ve missed you Jake,” she started to say. Eyes to the right.“Cut to the chase,” replied Jake. “Both of us know that’s not the truth.”She stopped. “I need your help,” she said simply. Eyes moved to the left.Jake frowned. Very unlike Emmy; she was so independent. She must be in real trouble. “I’m listening.”“There’s a lot of money coming my way, that’s the problem.”Jake thought he knew. “How much?” He sipped his coffee.“A quarter of a million bucks, tax free,” she responded, as she dipped the tea bag into her cup. Eyes to the left again.Jake sat up straighter in his chair. That was news; where did that come from? “That doesn’t appear to be a problem,” he said. “What’s the catch?”She took out the tea bag with a spoon and put it in the saucer. “Being alive to spend it would be one,” she replied, taking a mouthful. She grimaced at the taste. “Maybe I should have ordered coffee,” she said. “Yours, okay?”He nodded. His did taste okay. Must be a fresh pot. “Let me get this right,” he ventured. “You collect the money, your life’s in danger?”“That’s about it,” she said.“If I help you what’s in it for me, apart from being killed myself?”Her thin lips parted. “You get twenty five percent.”Jake shook his head. “No deal until I know the full details -- and it will be higher than twenty five percent.”She looked at him coyly and reached out a hand to touch him. “You want to talk it through somewhere quieter, my apartment’s close by.”He flinched. No he didn’t. Somehow her change in looks also changed her personality, and not for the better. She seemed more scheming, and she held no attraction for him now that he had Anna. “Emmy, your apartment sounds like a good idea, but there’s something you should know.” He looked at his watch. “Her name’s Anna. She’ll be here shortly. We can all go together.”

Back in Emmy’s apartment, they looked at one another. They were in deep. The prospect of easy money overriding caution and common sense. How easily they had stepped over the line, especially now BG’s fifty thousand had been spent already. The split had been agreed.Emmy looked at Jake and Anna sitting on her bed. “If your plan works, I’ll still be taking the risk he won’t kill me,” she said. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “It’s a fine line. I want better odds.”The plan seemed feasible enough. It would be safe to assume that Sammy would not take on Coach Mason by himself. That would be lunacy, given their physical differences. It would be putting a flyweight up against a heavyweight, a total mismatch. Therefore he would have others with him, probably two. They had all agreed on that. Emmy’s task was to follow Coach Mason’s plan, except that she would try and persuade Sammy to go up to her apartment alone with her, leaving the heavies waiting in their car outside the building. Appeal to his male ego, Jake had said. Harmless female in the clutches of a macho male, and the prospect of honey enticing him.Once in the apartment, Sammy would be no match for the Coach, but Mason would be worried about the two heavies sitting outside. It was up to Emmy to become irresistible, so that he would only tie her up, while he went after the others and dumped their bodies somewhere. Jake would let himself in with Emmy’s spare key, free her, and they would all make their escape. Emmy could take the next bus out of town with a cool one hundred and sixty thousand and, with the remaining ninety thousand, Jake and Emma could set up their agency anywhere they liked.Easy.Jake held out his hands. “You want a big cut; it’s a risk you have to take. Make yourself available as a bonus. The creep won’t turn that down a second time. As soon as you’re safe and the money’s split, we’ll point the police in Coach Mason’s direction.”Emma shook her head. “You want ninety thousand bucks; this is what we’ll do.” They listened while she modified Jake’s plan.

That undercover cop had played with his head and maybe his girlfriend too. He had to be careful though with his casual girlfriends, he didn’t want word getting back to Flora. Uncle Mario had warned him wives were wives, part of the family. Girlfriends were easy lays, that’s all. While he was in Longfield he roomed with a cousin, but David was out of town on business so Sammy had the apartment to himself for a while.Toast and coffee for breakfast and a Lucky Strike on the balcony. He shifted his chair out of the sun’s glare and reached across the coffee table for the list of names. This isn’t doing me any good, he thought. They were just names. He screwed up the list and tossed it into the large glass ashtray. The cop had told him that the perp was connected to the Bees, so he would go see for himself who was around. Take Mike and Bernie.***“Team’s out training,” said Arnie. The three men were in sharp suits, two heavies flanking a skinny guy in a sharp suit. “Who you looking for?”The skinny guy spoke. “Maybe someone who’s been around a while on the tour. Someone who can give us background.”Arnie looked puzzled. “You journalists?” he asked. Although they didn’t look like journalists, dressed like that.“I’m Sammy De Maggio,” said the skinny guy. “Ruth’s brother. You know her?”Arnie shook his head. “No, I haven’t seen her. She left the tour up in Stockton. Said it was a family bereavement.” He saw Sammy grimacing. “Sorry to hear that, she ok?”Sammy didn’t answer. He turned to Mike and Bernie, “Let’s look around.”Arnie watched them go. He had really upset the skinny guy, so he would cut him some slack until the team returned. Only a few guys were about anyway, it would be no trouble.***Sammy had a handle of how he was going to play it. Sit with the suspect, get Mike and Bernie to hang around, maybe drinking sodas, and then bring up the delicate matter of Ruth’s death. Nothing too heavy, just finding out a few things. Mr Cool.They walked around a bit, looked in the locker room, nothing. Sammy saw the steps leading up to the players’ balcony, and went up, looking around. One guy, in a black tracksuit, ‘Coach’ in white letters across his top, taking a soda out of the machine. No one else. The guy looked up, saw Sammy with the two heavies following; ignored him, popped the top of his soda. He slugged a draft and ambled over to a corner seat table, sat down and put his feet up over the balcony, and gazed at the sprinklers watering the grass.Being ignored, that’s what annoyed Sammy. He motioned to Mike and Bernie and they moved across and parked themselves at the same table. Quietly. No attempt to make conversation. Any other man would be wary, maybe be a little worried, but not this one. This one just wasn’t concerned. It was though he existed in his universe and them in theirs. Sammy felt in his pockets and took out his pack of Lucky Strikes. He lit one up and blew a smoke ring at the guy.The guy stirred, turned to face Sammy, seemed to wake up. “First of all there’s no smoking, and more to the point, who the hell are you, and what the hell you doing here?”Sammy was taken aback. Here he was, together with Mike and Bernie, in an intimidating get together, and the guy couldn’t give a damn. He could set Mike and Bernie on him, but it was a public place. Anyway he had told himself to act Mr. Cool. He stubbed out his cigarette under his foot and opened his arms in a gesture of conciliation, “It’s cool; I’m Sammy De Maggio. We’re here to ask about Ruth, my sister.” Just like that. Easy.“Well Sammy, you can call me Coach.” All friendly, like they known each other for years. “Your sister huh? Well I haven’t seen Ruth around since Stockton.” He grinned. “Too bad, she was a real friendly person, do anything for you.”Sammy had a load of questions that started to stack up. He waved towards the heavies. “This is Mike and Bernie. Family.”The Coach just nodded. Didn’t seem intimidated.“Coach,” he asked. “How come you’re not out with the team?”“Let’s just say I’m taking it easy until the big game on Saturday.” He squinted into the sun. The glare highlighted his facial scars.Sammy picked it up. Probably a vet; war could mess around with anyone’s mind, and that could explain his volatile reaction just then. He had to ask. “Seen any active service?” he asked. He could see that hit home.“Some,” replied the Coach. He seemed to drift off elsewhere; he looked up at the sun again. “Logistics: South Asia mainly. Pakistan, Afghanistan, and the like.”“Ruth’s dead,” Sammy said. Waited for the reaction. None.“Is that so?” replied the Coach. “What happened?”He could have been a poker pro, thought Sammy. “She was shot.”“That’s too bad.”Sammy tried another tack. “You know anyone who would do that?”“Sammy, I’m a Coach, not a crystal ball gazer.” He stared at Sammy. “Why you ask?”Sammy glanced at Mike and Bernie. They were getting restless, wanted to slug the guy or move on out. “The killer is connected in some way to the Bees.” Sammy watched the coach clench his fists. That shook him.Coach finished his soda and tossed the empty into the bin. He got up and nodded to the three of them. “As I said, I’m a Coach.”Sammy watched him walk away. He had a bit of a limp.

He heard the haunting sound of a tenor sax melody, which drew him from the fog and into the clearing. Ain’t Misbehavin’, drifting in the wind.Invading his nostrils. Opening his mind.A wind whistled, storm arriving. He ignored the warning.No one to talk to.All by myself.Focused on a picnic. Foursome. College grads. Dressed to impress. Bow ties and black pumps. A bottle of champers. One male laying back as a woman fed him titbits from a wicker-basket, the other two copulating on a shag-pile carpet. A rumpled ball-gown, discarded.Grunts and groans. Tempting him. Taunting him.The melody drifted away.He turned. A new wind buffeted. No matter. Focused on another scene.A goat tethered to a gnarled tree-stump. Bleating. A smoky fire, crackling in the wind. Squirrels in a cage, a trainee nurse feeding them peanut shells. She held a carving knife in one hand and a syringe in the other. Smiled while drops of liquid oozed from the needle.Tantalising him. Tempting him.Through with flirtin’.I’m happy on the shelf.A squabble nearby.Bitches in bondage, wearing tight white linen slacks. Hurting one-another. Screaming insults.Yelling at him. Provoking him.His throat ached. Turned away.Ain’t misbehavin’.Music played upon his senses – no one to walk with. He trekked across the clearing. Tramping on fallen leaves, avoiding bear traps, following his sound.A siren?A sea of marshy puddles – clear-cut as glass – lapped his ankles, made him trip.On his back. A few glittering stars. Flashes seared into his brain.His high faded, and the music softened.Had to move. Had to follow. Had to leave the clearing behind. Had to…More flashes. Raindrops falling. Thunderclaps drowning the sax.Mama’s voice. Hand tugging at him.‘Jack…you’re sweating buckets, sweetie. You alright?’Just you that I’m thinkin’ of.Ain’t misbehavin’.Savin’ my love for you.

Their cover story was journalists, who wanted some background, a sort of fleshing out the human face of the Bees personnel. Mac had insisted they would be less intimidating than regular cops, and information would be given far more freely. ‘Try and get them to talk about their upbringing, good and bad things that happened in their lives,’ he said. ‘We need to match this against our profile of the perp.’He also taught them body language, what to look for and how to spot lies. They had tried it out on their trips to the bars. And on each other. It worked.“Okay, what we got so far?” asked Jake. Anna reviewed their list, the revised one, all males. “Well we’ve prioritized those who been on the tour longest. We’ve downgraded all of the main team to the ‘B’ list; they get their kicks on the field. We’ve eliminated many of the other playing back-up, including admin, media and all. Forget anyone over forty, they’re senile.”“That’s a bit harsh,” said Jake. Some of those guys are pretty fit. And mentally sharp.”Anna sniffed. “Well, we’ll come back to them, we get nowhere on the front line. That leaves four, including Coach Mason who was fired yesterday.”“Well we better try and see him first, before he ups and leaves,” replied Jake. “You wanna cover him, while I take one of the others. I can see who’s around.”***They parked their new motorbike in the stadium parking lot, and took off their helmets. Both looking smart and business like carrying journalist notebooks and pocket cameras, courtesy of Mac. Anna wearing slacks and white blouse, buttons down the front. Arnie trudged out to greet them. Jake explained their angle and showed him the names of the four people they wanted to talk to. “If it’s no trouble, that is.”Arnie was happy with media attention; told them it would boost gate receipts. “Coach Mason is around someplace. Arnie pointed to the locker room. “Probably clearing out his belongings. We can walk around and see if any of the others can talk to you.”While Jake followed Arnie, Anna went to search out Coach Mason. She peeked into the locker room and saw someone packing items from a locker into a box. “Coach Mason?” she asked.He spun round and saw Anna. “Yeah, that’s me,” he said. Eyes moved to the left. “Who are you?”Anna told him. She saw Coach eyeing her up. Creepy sort, she didn’t take to him at all. But she carried on smiling.While she explained, his eyes lit up. A promise of a full length feature in a sports’ chick magazine massaged his ego. Apart from them, the locker room was empty. The team were out on a promotional lunch at the town hall. He motioned for her to take a seat on the bench and smiled. “Okay, shoot. I’m all yours,” he said.Anna took a few pictures and wrote down everything in her notebook. High school athletics champion, played college football; plus a first class mind in a first class body. His life had been first-rate up to when his brother was killed, and he got injured. Then it all started to fall apart.“How’d you feel about that?” she asked.“Being laid up in an army hospital for six months, my sports career ruined, how’d you feel?” he replied. She wrote down, ‘Bitter’.“But you became a Coach,” she said.“After what I went through, reconstructive surgery and all, they owed me that. It wasn’t easy, no one wanted a burned out vet.” She wrote down, ‘Rejection’.“So how did this job come about?”He leaned forward as if disclosing a big secret. “Miss I haven’t got a job now, I’m on the heap.”She didn’t press him on that. “Coach, I hope you don’t mind me being personal and all, you got a wife, partner maybe?”He laughed an embittered laugh. “You watch horror movies? Women don’t have time for me and I’ve got no time for them.” There was a sharp edge to his voice. She noted that. She sympathized with him, told him many women would find him pleasing, but wrote down, ‘Freak.’“Final question, what are you going to do next?” She watched his face light up.“I’m going to be famous,” he said. Eyes left. True.“How come?” she asked.He leered at her. “You said final question, miss. Interview terminated.” He turned his back on her, and started to take some more gear from his locker.“Thanks Coach,” she said, getting up to leave. “Nice meeting you. I hope it all turns out ok.”He turned and looked her straight in the eye. She sensed evil penetrating her head. “It will, don’t you worry on that score,” he replied. Eyes to the left again.

Back in their room, they compared notes. “I need a shower,” said Anna, taking off her top and stretching. “He made my flesh crawl, kept looking at my breasts, made me feel dirty being in the same room.”Jake lifted his eyebrows. “I’ll join you,” he said, unzipping his khakis. “And soap them for you, ok?”She laughed. “Pervert, but it sounds good.”“It’ll feel good too, by the time I finish with you,” he replied. “You can see how horny I am.”She didn’t have to look at his face to see he was telling the truth. It was as hard as a rock and staring straight at her.

He had a good memory for faces. He knew every contour of his own, watched with a mixture of horror and fascination as his was rebuilt layer by painful layer. He had treated some of his victims to new features where he thought it would improve their looks. Pity they didn’t live long enough to see for themselves.When he saw the girl, she reminded him of the photo-shoot girl, yet this girl had a smaller nose and a different hair style. If it was her, what had happened, and what was she doing here? Shopping? Well he would wait and watch. After all, he had plenty of time. Too much.Everything was coming together. Drum loads of fuel were piling up in the barn. Just waiting for next Friday. The days were ticking by and he was tensed up. A fresh kill would help him relax. He saw the girl pick up her bag and move across to the fast-food outlet. He was going to follow her, but stopped when he saw BG sitting there.He sat back down. So it was the photo shoot girl. What were they doing meeting here in Wal-Mart? It wasn’t a social meeting. No friendly gestures, no food or drink. Just business. BG gave her his briefcase; she opened it and moved some of the contents about. Satisfied she passed her bag to BG. He did the same, looked worried at something he saw and closed it quick. They talked awhile. She stood up, but stopped when BG told her something. She seemed to react angrily, but then picked up the suitcase leaving BG sitting there.He moved downstairs. Followed her out. Saw her pick up a cab. Heavy traffic heading downtown. He rushed to the parking lot and eased the pick-up into the traffic flow.

Rental apartment block just off Smithsonian. Had a Surelet sign outside, flyer pinned to the board. He took it. He watched her carry the briefcase inside; he moved over to the main doorway and looked through the glass. Saw her take the elevator to the third floor; he watched the light above the door stop there. Turning to the fire escape he raced up the steps, and opened the door at the third level. There she was, far end opening her apartment door. She went inside, not looking around.Okay, now he had to get her to open it for him. He gave her ten to settle in, make sure she wouldn’t be flustered when he knocked. No one around. He picked up a fire extinguisher and knocked on her door, twice all official like. He heard a movement inside, and he said ‘Fire Alarm test’ loud enough for her to hear. He heard her move to the door and it opened on the latch chain. He was dressed in casual clothes with a jacket, not run down; no overalls, but he would pass inspection.She peered at him. “Yes,” she said. “What is it?”“Management inspection ma’am,” he said. Keep it polite. He showed her the gas cylinder. “We’re installing these in all our apartments. Health and Safety regulations.” He smiled his winning smile.“You got ID?” she asked.No he hadn’t. That was a mistake. “Ma’am I’m completing the third floor installs for management.” He showed her the Surelet flyer. “My ID’s in my case downstairs in the office, you want to come and see?” It was enough. She took the chain off the latch and opened the door.

“You going to kill me?” she asked.He stopped counting the dollar bills while he gave it some thought. Actually he felt a sense of shared pain, her nose and all, and the fresh lump on her head where he had hit her with the fire extinguisher. All those years, looking in the mirror, hoping and wishing her face would change, he could understand that. A neuron switch in his head triggered an unlikely response. “I’m not looking to harm you none, miss.” He resumed his count.“My name’s Emmy,” she said.He looked up. “I know,” he said. “Bees photo shoot.”“How you know?” she asked.He finished his count. “Fifty bucks short of fifty grand, huh. BG gave you this?”“You saw me at Wal-Mart?”He pointed a finger at her. “I asked you a question. Did BG give you this?”She nodded. Seemed to be trying to please. So he wouldn’t hurt her. “Yes. And I planned on a whole lot more, but he’s scared me off.”“Emmy, I’m not so dumb not to ask questions and all. Better tell Coach, huh?” He eyeballed her.She flinched at the name, and started to gabble. “I got him framed for the killing up at Stockton. Ruth De Maggio. I have the pictures. Plenty. Downloaded to a flash drive stick.” She started to sob. “Please loosen these bonds, Coach.”He made no attempt to help her. “And that’s it?”She shook her head and bit her lip. “I was going to bleed him dry, but he’s put the screws to me. Ruth’s brother Sammy is a mobster. I don’t leave town, I’m dead meat.”“That’s it?” he asked.“Coach I’ve told you all, please untie my wrists.”He moved over and gave her some slack. He watched as she rubbed the circulation back. A new plan was forming. And the new plan meant that Emmy Parton would live, that is, until she had set BG up for him.

He split the fifty grand as a gesture of goodwill, and took her cell phone. After all, there was a whole lot more coming, and since he was now off the Bees payroll, income was a priority. She could pay off her surgeon; his portion was the protection fee. He had a few days until Friday, this would keep him busy.The plan was simple. She was to arrange to meet BG in the same place; he would bring quarter of a million in exchange for the flash drive stick. Of course, BG would inform Sammy, but they wouldn’t try anything in Wal-Mart, they’d follow her cab back to her apartment block where he would be waiting. A killing machine. It would be a perfect prelude to his masterpiece.

Author

Bio: British age 74 (young) retired and living in Thailand. Profession, Charity Auditor working in some 40 countries over the last ten years before retiring. Familiar with writing reports to professional standard. Sense of humour, reserved, realist and down to earth. Enjoy writing with a passion for the unusual.Genre: Fiction crime Email: stephenterry747@hotmail.comPhone: 0066823250835 Thailand